


Veritaserum

by Tabi_essentially



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fic Auction, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-07-29 20:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7698967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabi_essentially/pseuds/Tabi_essentially
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur wakes up and can't remember Eames, but DAMN did he hit the jackpot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Veritaserum

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! This fic is another prompt fill for my [ a thing on my Tumblr.](http://la-belle-laide.tumblr.com/post/145074834219/fic-auction-for-my-dog)
> 
> The prompt is from [iheartthoreau on Tumblr,](http://iheartthoreau.tumblr.com/) who wanted a story echoing that viral video where the guy wakes up from surgery and can't remember his wife, but thinks she's the most beautiful woman ever--[(the video is here--](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KUGkUhqtvU0)) with Arthur as the one waking up.
> 
> Now some of you may remember I once did an “Arthur gets high from a compound” fic, but I was pretty confident I could do a different take on it. I really hope I succeeded! :) 
> 
> iheartthoreau, thank you SO MUCH for your wonderful donation, and for this prompt.I'm sorry to have kept you waiting!

** ** ** **

At least this time it wasn't a hot, dank-ass warehouse, Ariadne mused, as she sketched out a level of a schoolhouse. It was a tidy clinic sort of setting with air conditioning, because Cobb was “legit” now. 

Still, Eames was bitching that Arthur was always the lab rat when they tried new compounds. But Eames might have gotten to be the lab rat if he'd shown up on time. Well, none of her business, really. She kept sketching. Cobb had hired her for this one, an extraction on a dementia patient, totally on the level. She wasn't going to get involved in any interpersonal drama. Do the job, take her cut, maybe get another house. (Although, honestly? These legal jobs didn't pay nearly as much. Still, Saito had paid her student loans on the Fisher case, and she'd had enough left over for a little place in Paris. Pretty sweet.)

It was cute, how Arthur and Eames were together now. She had a girlfriend, casual, though. None of this life and death stuff that Arthur and Eames seemed to get themselves into. (Or Dom and Mal for that matter.) Dom stood lurking over a laptop, not looking up; a dark presence she wasn't really comfortable with, pretty much ever. He was fascinating, and he pulled off some seriously amazing shit, but his was the kind of drama that she didn't need, or really even want in her head anymore.

She would probably never date anyone in dreamshare, because people who did that tended to get pathologically attached, or it ended really badly after a while. Dom was the prime example. But maybe Arthur and Eames were more secure than that. She couldn't imagine Arthur falling down any major rabbit holes. Or Eames, either. Arthur was too stable for it, and Eames too much a survivalist. She considered herself to be a little of both.

So there was Arthur, in the reclining chair at the office that Dom had set up for himself. Dom called himself a therapist these days, and he did have a license for it, so technically he _was_ legit, even if most people didn't know what his work really was. They thought it was a combination medication and hypnotism. In a way it was.

Dom could never totally stay away from dreamshare though. She knew she shouldn't judge or whatever, because neither could she. Well, as long as it wasn't illegal. It paid well enough, way more than architecture. 

“All I'm saying is that you could have waited,” Eames continued bitching at Cobb. “I would have gone under. Or, you know, _you_ could have, for once.”

“I don't go under much anymore,” Cobb said.

Which Ariadne thought was a pretty good call on his part, honestly. Maybe the first sane thing he'd done since his wife pitched herself out the window.

“What kind of compound is this?” Eames asked.

“It's supposed to make the dream sharper, but also lower inhibitions so that clients will be more open to suggestion.”

“Clients,” Eames repeated, deadpan. “Not marks. You have clients now.”

Cobb snapped, “Yes, Eames, _we_ have clients now.”

“Clients whose inhibitions you need lowered, but certainly not for extraction.”

Cobb looked away and said, “I'm sure it would work just fine for extractions, too. But I'm not in that business anymore. Since you are, it might be worth your while to test it out, too. Besides, Arthur wanted to try it. He asked to.”

“The compounds passed the Yusuf Test, if that makes any difference,” Ariadne piped up. “I'm sure Arthur is fine down there.”

“I'm sure he is, too,” Eames said. “But that's hardly the point. It's a matter of principle.”

“And his body constantly having to process the compounds,” Ariadne added, not bothering to look up from her sketch. “I mean some of this stuff has to end up in your liver.”

“Yes, also that,” Eames said, gesturing uselessly toward Arthur, even though Cobb wasn't even looking in their direction.

Cobb sighed, still not looking up from his laptop. “Arthur is a grown man,” he said. “He decided to go under. You know, this reminds me of the time that Mal--”

Arthur jerked awake, flailing. He must have shot himself down there, because the timer hadn't gone off yet.

“Whoa,” Cobb said, coming over to him, “why'd you wake up? You still have six minutes left. Did something go wrong?”

Arthur looked around. He had a startled look on his face, a little spooked. “Uhh, no, everything's... fine.”

“Okay,” Cobb said. “All right, if you're sure. Let's go over it.” He went behind the desk to get his laptop. 

Arthur swung his legs around and sat up. Eames went to him, solicitous in kind of a cute way, with a frown lining his brows. 

“All right, Arthur?”

“Huh?” Arthur said. “Yeah. Fine.” He stood up, Eames a bit to his left.

“Okay,” Cobb said. “So how was it? Sharp enough? How were the details?”

“The details were great,” Arthur said, and tipped over to the right side.

Eames stepped around and caught him, asking, “Arthur?” and then, more concerned: “Shit. Cobb!” 

“Oh. Yeah, shit,” Cobb said. Arthur had finally gotten his attention. “Is he all right?”

Arthur still hadn't gotten his feet under him, so Ariadne left her sketches behind and got up, too, since Cobb and Eames seemed inclined to just stand there calling Arthur's name. Then Eames got his shit together, and finally had the presence of mind to put Arthur back down on the recliner.

She grabbed her phone and texted Yusuf:

 _'the compound you ok'ed made Arthur fall over is that normal_ '

Eames was busy checking Arthur's pulse and Cobb went to get a glass of water or something useless like that. Ariadne pocketed her phone. 

“Get his feet up or something,” she said to Eames, because she really hoped that he had just passed out, and not gotten poisoned. She judged, however, that it couldn't have been worse than any of the times the compounds had gone deeply, badly wrong.

Her phone vibrated.

_'Not normal, exactly,'_ Yusuf texted back, _'but not completely alarming, I think. It happens sometimes, with sedatives._ ' 

“Yusuf doesn't sound worried,” she told Eames, who was lightly tapping on Arthur's cheek.

Her phone pinged again. _'He is breathing, right?_ '

Arthur opened his eyes.

 _'Yes,_ ' she texted back, _'looks like he's waking up. I'll get back to you._

Cobb came back in with a glass of water, with his glasses on, and an epi-pen in his hand. When he saw that Arthur was awake, he stuffed the epi-pen into his back pocket. 

“What was that, Cobb?” she asked. 

“I keep it around,” he said, with a wave of his hand. “Arthur? You all right?”

Arthur looked at Cobb, looked at Ariadne, looked at Eames. She was close enough to see his pupils actually dilate as he said, “ _Wow_ ,” in an overly loud voice.

“Was it that good?” Cobb asked.

“What?” Arthur asked. “Ugh, no. I'm in dreamshare, right?” His voice was slurred, his words ran together with soft consonants. 

The look Eames shot at Cobb could have killed a weaker man. Ariadne texted Yusuf: ' _Amnesia?_ '

“Yes, you're in dreamshare,” Cobb said. “How much do you remember?”

Arthur rubbed his hand over his forehead. “Dreaming,” he said. “And really that's it.” He looked at all of them, eyebrows raised. “Wow though. _You,_ ” he went on, pointing an accusing finger at Ariadne, “are adorable. You,” to Cobb, “you have that attractive professor thing going on. A little shifty, though.” He squinted his eyes at Cobb, a pretty remarkable impersonation, so maybe he hadn't totally forgotten everyone. Then he looked at Eames. “But _you._ Holy shit. Wow.”

' _Amnesia, really_ ' Yusuf texted back. ' _Not generally. Oh, hold on - did the timer run out?'_

_'No he woke up b4'_

_'Ah,'_ Yusuf texted, and she could just hear his voice in the texts, those clipped consonants, ' _good, that makes sense. The compound is meant to keep the subject in a dreaming state until the timer runs out. He'll be fine once that happens. Until then, expect a waking dream state._ '

Ariadne let out the breath she was holding. “Yusuf says it's normal,” she told them, mostly Eames. “He'll be like this until the compound is out of his system. It's because he got a kick instead of running down the timer.”

Cobb rubbed the back of his head. “That makes sense. Wish we would have known sooner, though.”

' _he's ok_ ,' Ariadne texted Yusuf. ' _he's just hitting on everyone.'_

 _'I'd like a video of that,_ ' Yusuf texted, _'for research purposes of course.'_

 _'pretty sure eames would kill me_ ' she answered, and put her phone away.

“Oh my god,” Arthur said to Eames. “Who _are_ you?”

Eames glanced at Ariadne, one eyebrow up. 

“Normal,” Ariadne confirmed again, holding her phone in Eames's direction in case he wanted to see Yusuf's texts.

“What's your name?” Arthur pressed.

“Err... Well, you call me Eames.”

“ _Eames?_ " Arthur said. “Like the chair?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“Oh my god. Oh my god, I wanna sit on you.”

Ariadne cackled; she couldn't even help it.

Cobb said, “I'm gonna just be... We'll talk when this part is over. I'll be over here on my...”

“You're not bad either, Shifty Professor,” Arthur said, craning his neck to look at Cobb. “I'm into it. Do you like men?”

Cobb sighed. “Sure.”

Ariadne turned to look at Cobb, and Eames almost gave himself whiplash.

“What?” Cobb said. “Listen, when you work in dreams, all bets are off. The unconscious mind doesn't make distinctions between gender most of the time. It carries over. You guys know this. Just... just see to Arthur.” He walked back to the safety of his desk and opened his laptop, whispering an exasperated, “ _Jesus_ ” under his breath.

“You, though,” Arthur continued, staring at Eames again, his voice a little lower. “God, wow. Stand up.”

“Why?” Eames asked. 

“I just wanna... come on, stand up.”

Ariadne's phone buzzed. _'Make sure he drinks a lot of water and stays hydrated_ ' Yusuf suggested.

“I'm gonna get you some water, Arthur,” Ariadne said.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Arthur called back. Then he went back to urging Eames to stand up.

Ariadne took a bottle from the mini fridge. When she returned, Eames was standing awkwardly. Ariadne twisted the cap off and handed the water bottle to Arthur. He gave her a nod, started drinking, and then made a twirling motion toward Eames.

Eames stood there looking perplexed.

“He wants you to turn around,” Ariadne explained, unable to quit smiling. Arthur wasn't dying, so this had the potential to be pretty entertaining.

“Ugh!” Eames said, and reluctantly turned around.

Arthur put his water down and tried to whistle, but all he managed to do was blow air out of his pursed lips. “You're a masterpiece. I swear to god I saw you on the internet.” 

“You saw _me_?” Eames asked. “On the...”

“Yeah and I bookmarked the shit out of that video.”

Either Ariadne was losing her damn mind, or Eames was blushing. It was just the slightest tinge of pink across his nose and high on his cheeks, but she was sure it was there.

“I assure you,” Eames said, “as I am a career criminal, there are no videos of me on the internet.”

“It went directly into my bank,” Arthur continued.

From behind his laptop, Cobb failed to stifle a laugh. Then he shook his head and went back to pretending to look things up.

“He means spank bank,” Ariadne said.

“I know very well-- Listen, Arthur, you're just confused right now. You have a bit of amnesia at the moment, but your memory will return in a few minutes. I have never put a video of myself on the internet. You know me. All right?”

“So, how well do I know you?” Arthur asked. “I mean are we friends or what? Do we just work together or are we like closer than that?”

Eames sat down beside him, took the hand that was holding (and spilling) the water, and pushed it toward his face. “Drink your water, sweetheart.”

“ _Sweetheart_?” Arthur asked. His eyes remained wide as he took another sip. “So we don't just _work_ together.”

“No,” Eames said, fond. “We don't just work together.”

Arthur's eyes lit up as he realized what Eames was saying. “Holy _shit!_ ” he said. “What, are we like... together or something?”

Eames cleared his throat. “Yes. We are together. Or something.”

“Wow.” Arthur dropped his head back against the chair, closed his eyes as he thought about this, and then opened them again. “We're together. Us. Me and you?”

“Yes,” Eames said.

“Holy shit-devils! Is it christmas? Is it the holidays right now?”

“Err, no?” Eames said.

“WOW,” Arthur said, in that overly-loud voice reserved for the cataclysmically drunk and stoned, “looks like Santa came early. And so did I!” He giggled at his own wit, and Cobb let out another one of his cackles.

“Oh wow,” Arthur went on. “We're together? Oh my god. How long?”

“Erm... that question is harder to answer,” Eames said. “But quite a long time, I think.”

“Do we kiss?” Arthur asked. 

“Often,” Ariadne interjected. “Mostly when you think no one's looking.”

Eames frowned at her as if this wasn't true, but that was bullshit and he had to have known it, because he didn't say anything. His cheeks still looked a bit warm. 

“I can't believe I get to kiss you,” Arthur said. “I mean look at your lips, that's like... You're like a _masterpiece_ in an art show or something. You know you could be a model?” He made an “OK” sign with his thumb and forefinger. “You'd make a mint, you know. You'd probably make about a million dollars. Per session.”

“I do just fine in my current line of work,” Eames said, and then urged, “drink your water, Arthur, there's a lad.” There was laughter in his voice now, suppressed but there.

Arthur said, “Really though? Me and you?” as he gestured to the space between them.

“Yes. Really. Me and you.”

Arthur slurred out an exaggerated “Oh, _maaaaan._ Me and you. Shit. Wow. How did I get so lucky?”

The room went a little bit quiet, and Eames's smile went a little bit more fond.

“I'll tell you later,” Eames said. “In private. For now you've just got to stay hydrated.”

Arthur sipped at his water contentedly, occasionally glancing at Eames and saying, “Woooow.”

After a few minutes of that one, slurred word, he came out with, “Are we married? And if not, are we going to get married?”

The room went silent. Eames opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it. 

It was a fair question, Ariadne thought, but she knew better than to say anything. 

“Well,” Eames said, quietly, “it's not something that's ever come up. And now is really not the time to discuss it, when, err... you can't even remember me. Maybe I'm horrible. Have you thought of that?”

“Pshsh!” Arthur laughed. “No way. You're not horrible. I can tell. You have...” He sat up and leaned a little closer to Eames. And then, with more clarity than before: “No. Not honest eyes, exactly. But I think you wouldn't lie to me. Am I right?”

“On that, at least,” Eames said, nearly a whisper, “yes, you are right.”

Arthur flopped back down onto the chair and pressed his hand over his eyes. “Ah, shit,” he said.

“Darling?” Eames asked.

Cobb stood up to see if he was all right, peering over his laptop, not sure if he should approach.

The timer on the PASIV ran down to zero.

 

** ** ** **

 

' _that compound is precise as a motherfucker_ ' Ariadne texted to Yusuf.

Eames was sitting next to Arthur, who was still reclining on the chair, quiet now, with a cold towel over his eyes – probably more so that he wouldn't have to look at anyone. Cobb was hovering around, waiting to ask his questions, and Eames kept shooing him away.

 _Yes it is,_ Yusuf texted back. _'Do warn the others not to shoot themselves out of the dream, please._ '

“Guys,” Ariadne said, “Yusuf says you can't shoot yourself out with this compound.”

“Why on earth wouldn't he have said that earlier?” Eames asked.

' _eames wishes to express his displeasure that we weren't warned beforehand_ ' she texted.

A few seconds later, Yusuf returned: _'Tell Eames that there is an entire packet of instructions in Dom Cobb's email, and that he's welcome to suck my dick if he insists on blaming me._ '

Ariadne went to Eames and showed him the text. Eames just sighed. She showed the text to Dom next.

“Uhh, no,” Cobb said. “There's nothing in my inbox.”

' _he says there isn't_ ' she texted.

“Which one did he send it to?” Dom asked.

“Why don't you call him instead of having me relay your messages?” she asked. “I actually do have work to get done.”

She sat down next to Arthur, on the other side of his reclining chair. “Hey. Are you okay?”

He peeled back the towel and squinted at her. “Yeah,” he said. “I could use another water, if you don't mind.”

“Sure,” she said. She patted his hand and went to get another one. 

When she came back, he told her, “You actually are adorable, you know. That was true.”

“I know,” she said.

“The rest of it was true, too,” he added.

Eames looked away and didn't answer.

“I, uhh...” Arthur said.

Eames cleared his throat. “Hate to ask it—actually, no I don't, come to think of it—but can everyone please fuck off for a bit? I'd like a moment with Arthur.”

Cobb looked startled. “Umm, sure. We can take a break, now that we know everything is all right.”

As Cobb passed by Arthur, he squeezed his shoulder and said, low, “ _Is_ everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Arthur said, waving him away with a lazy hand, “I'm fine.”

Cobb still looked concerned as he waited by the door for Ariadne, and held it for her.

“Hey, don't worry,” Ariadne said, as they walked down the sleek, cool hallway. “You know Arthur better than I do. You know he's seen worse than a wonky compound.”

“Yeah,” Cobb said. “No, it's not that. Arthur gets defensive when he reveals things against his will. And Eames... Well, they have a lot to talk about. If they end up hurting each other, it's not going to end well. These things don't, in our business.”

“Hurt each other?” Ariadne said. Cobb was so good at what he did in dreams; how could he be so obtuse outside of them? “Cobb, they're going to get married.”

How did Cobb manage to raise his eyebrows and squint at the same time, and still look sort of cunning and assessing? “You think so?”

“Uhh, yeah,” she said. “Arthur has self control even when he doesn't have self control. He wasn't going to say anything that wasn't in his heart, and you know that Eames has already picked away all his walls. If he's going to get defensive with anyone, it'll be with us. But he won't, because he's not a child. He was babbling, but the real question was: Why aren't they married already? You know that's exactly what they're talking about right now.”

Cobb gave her a sly look, like he'd been thinking the exact same thing the whole time, and had been waiting for her to say it. And, hell, maybe he had known. Maybe he understood the dynamic between Arthur and Eames--the one that had doomed him and Mal—but which could maybe, in this instance, go right.

It was his subconscious, after all, that had once asked her if she knew what it was like to be two halves of a whole.


End file.
